The Case Swap
by Dash-Rendar
Summary: UPDATE! Chapter 3 is up. R &R!
1. Grayson Chapter 1

Teen Titans

The Case Swap

Chapter 1

(This is a tie in with All These Lives. That being said, onto the story! Just one last quick reminder – Dick is working on the Simons case, while Harvey is working on the Roy Harper case. I'll give you more info on the Simons case as I get into the story.)

Dick's POV

As I walked into the office first thing Monday morning, I bumped into Harvey Dent, one of my fellow officers. Nodding a good morning, I moved passed his large frame to the coffee pot and poured myself a mug of the hot liquid. As I was adding sugar and cream, Harvey asked, "You still want me to have a look at the Harper case?"

Taking a small swig of my coffee, I said, "Yeah, I thought I had already put the file on your desk Saturday afternoon. You were out on your usual donut run." I moved into my spacious office and sat down at my desk, flicking my computer on as I did so.

Harvey nodded. "I did find the file this morning. I was just making sure you didn't put it there accidentally."

I gave Harvey a look that plainly said, 'Me doing something by accident? Yea right.' He grinned. "Yea, I guess I forgot who I was talking to. I'll get started on it right away. You should find the folder for the Simons case in the top slot of your mailbox. I put it there this morning." He turned around and went back to his desk, the chair creaking as he sat down.

Chuckling to myself, I quickly checked my computer for any updates on other cases and then went to my mailbox to grab a manila folder with SIMONS on the top in thick black typewriter style letters. Tucking it under my arm, I went back to my desk to go through the folder.

Sighing, I flipped the folder open to see three sheets of paper. One had a photo of the crime scene attached to a testimony from Jesse R. Nixon's wife as to how he died. The second was an autopsy report confirming the testimony of Mrs. Nixon. The last was a picture of a shell that was found on the scene. It was rifle shell by the looks of it, but not of any standard shape. It had little needles sticking out of the sides.

Humming thoughtfully, I paged the Commissioner. "Hey Jim, can I see you in my office for a second? I got a question I want to ask you." He said he'd be right down, so I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind my head as I tried to think of the custom rifle builders in the area.

Jim Gordon came into my office. He was looking a bit worse than normal, mostly because of his constant overwork on the Tornado case. The man needed to get some sleep; his eyes were bloodshot and his hands were twitching from all the caffeine he had been drinking. "How can I help ya Dick?"

I showed him the picture of the bullet. "Do we have that in lock up? I want to take a look at it."

"Yea, we got it. I'll write you a pass to have access to it. One minute." He walked off and came back a minute later with a signed permission slip to enter lock up. It had become a priority ever since one of our guards stole some evidence to keep one of his buddies out of jail. The only way to open to the door was to hold the signature up to a custom scanner. If it read, the door opened. If not, an alarm sounded.

I took the paper and went downstairs to the evidence lock up. Holding the paper in front of the scanner, it beeped once and the door slid open. Quickly heading over to the S section of the giant bay, I found the Simons case folder and slid it out. After rooting around inside the box, I found the bullet in a small evidence baggy.

Using the intercom built into the wall, I said, "Jim, it's Dick. Can I take that bullet out for a closer look at it?" I released the Talk button and waited for a response.

I didn't need to wait long. "Go for it Dick. Just seal the bag again when you're done."

I quickly popped the bag open and took the bullet out, holding it carefully between my thumb and index finger. The small spikes weren't extremely sharp, but they were probably only used to keep the bullet in there for a longer time than normal.

Turning the bullet around to the back, I saw a small pinprick near the center of the metal. Grabbing a microscope that was nearby, I zoomed in on the area. "Hmm… Looks like we got a new lead here," I muttered to myself as I went back to the intercom. "Jim, I need a list of all the custom rifle makers from here to Steel City and I need it now!"


	2. Harvey Chapter 1

The Case Swap

The Case Swap

Chapter 2

I grunted as I stared down at the files Dick left on my desk.

Damn. This was some case.

Roy Harper, an old pal of Dick's, was murdered. He worked at a shooting range. Known to carry three guns on him at all times, but one was found at the scene completely empty. Course his prints were on it, but nothing was found at the scene except for a shell that came from a, so far, unidentified rifle.

Just looking at this guy's file you could tell he was a one-man army. If there was anyone to go to with that shell, it'd be him. Kind of ironic he's also the victim in this case.

'Course, that also doesn't help me solve it.

Alright, I'll have to start from square one. Friends, family, and enemies. It's a mixed group. Could be anyone in there and, since I've never even met the guy, I wouldn't know if he was the type to make friends fast. Or which type of 'friends' he made.

He was the adopted son of the city's former Mayor, Oliver Queen.

Friend of Air Force legend Hal Jordon.

Knew a couple of Metropolis reporters.

'Course he knew Dick, and obviously Bruce Wayne too.

The Commissioner.

A few simple shop owners.

Another cop in some place called Hub City.

Hmm…knew Helena Bertinelli. That could be interesting. A meeting with the Princess of Gotham's mafia family.

I'll have to make sure to check up on that later.

The best way to go is to start with the person closest to him. That'd be…Donna Troy. The guy's fiancée.

Hmm. She's not too bad looking. Pretty face, but dated and was engaged to a guy with probably an unlimited knowledge of weapons. No way he couldn't have passed some of that knowledge down to her.

Huh, already got my first suspect.

I got up from my chair, grabbed the last donut from the box on my desk and took off towards the door. Once I was out of the place, I went straight to my car, stepped in, and started her up. As I drove toward the fiancées' address, I munched on my glazed donut. Mmm. Makes me wish I had another.

Maybe I can stop by the shop, after I go talk to Troy, and grab myself another dozen. Or two.

Now I'm just making myself even hungrier than I was when I left. Tough cases do that to me. I always need thinking food for 'em.

I reached Donna Troy's place about twenty-five minutes after I left, cause of all that stupid traffic. Everyone's always gotta be someplace in the mornin'.

After finding a nice little parking spot up front, I walked over to the door, rang her bell and waited. I checked my watch to see that I'd waited five minutes and she hadn't answered.

I rang again and waited a little longer this time. Ten minutes longer, to be exact.

Maybe I should've called before coming over.

"Can I help you?" some girl asked from behind me. As I turned to look at her, while taking out the picture I had of Donna Troy, I found her standing right behind me, an eyebrow quirked up and a bag of groceries in her hands.

I glanced in the bag.

This chick's a health nut.

She cleared her throat to gain my attention.

"Oh, sorry," I said as I swiftly shifted my gaze back to her face. "The name's Harvey Bullock. I'm a detective with the G.C.P.D. and I'm here to talk to you about your late fiancée, Roy Harper."

"No offense detective, but I thought Dick Grayson was on the case," she replied with great confusion evident in her wide eyes.

"He is, but he asked for my help on it. Seeing as I don't know the guy as well as he does, I thought I'd go around and learn more about him from the people close to him. Since you two were engaged, I thought I'd start with you."

"You don't have many manners, do you? Have you ever heard of calling?"

"Lady, I'm a detective on the G.C.P.D. You're lucky I didn't bust down your door when you didn't answer."

"Was that the first or second time you rang the bell?"

Shit. She was here for the first time. Then why the hell didn't she talk to me then?

"If you were here the first time, why the hell didn't you come up to me?"

"To see if you were some kind of odd robber. My neighbor was actually robbed late one night by someone who rang her doorbell. Guy knocked her out, went inside, grabbed her valuables, then took off before anyone could wake up to get him." She walked around me and to her door. Balancing the grocery bags in her left arm, she pulled her keys out of her pocket with her right hand and opened the door. "Usually, I don't go around trusting many people on the police force, but since Dick sent you over then I'll answer your questions."

"Well thanks for the support." I followed her in and closed the door behind me so she wouldn't have to worry. "Not workin' today or was your fiancée the bread-winner around here?"

"I'm a freelance photographer," she answered as she went to put the groceries away. "You can grab a seat on the couch. I'll only be a few minutes."

I walked straight ahead and into her living room. It was a nice place. I guess a picture's worth more than just a thousand words.

Instead of taking a seat on the couch, though, I started looking around the room. She seems like she's got nothing to hide, but you can never be too careful. There's always a chance it can be the nice ones.

"You want something to drink?" she called from the kitchen as I started looking under the couch.

I popped my head up so my voice wouldn't sound like it was coming from farther away than it should. "Yeah. Cup of Joe would be great! I take mine black, thanks!" I called back before sticking my head under the couch again. I reached in to feel around for any weapons hidden under the piece of furniture. Nothing.

Usually the first place a crook would hide a weapon is right under ya.

As I stood back up, I caught a glance at the mantle above the fireplace.

Up until this moment, I'd only seen shots of the dead guys' dead body, but the pictures on the mantle showed that he wasn't just a pale guy with a hole through his head and blood all over his face. He looked like a nice guy to know and she, Donna that is, seemed really happy with him.

I've learned a lot in my many years on the force and one thing I know is how many masks people wear, whether they know it or not.

She may be calm right now, but she basically said it herself. She's not a big fan of Gotham cops. The way she's acting around me could very well be another mask, to hide the sorrow and pain she's really feeling.

I don't need to break it. I just need answers.


	3. Grayson Chapter 2

The Case Swap

The Case Swap

Chapter 3

Dick's POV

It seems that every time I get somewhere, I get pushed back to square one. No wonder Harvey thought this case was a major pain. I don't usually like to admit things like this, but I'm stuck.

You see, I just got that list of custom rifle makers from Jim and it's about three pages long. I have to go through each shop with that blasted shell and ask if they made someone a rifle to shoot that kind of shells. That part alone could take days, if not weeks.

Luckily, the last page of rifle makers in Jump City. I can forward that onto my adopted brother, Tim, who lives up that way. I can give him a picture of the bullet and ask him to check around for me.

Quickly grabbing my phone and dialing the Jump City extension, I waited somewhat impatiently for the switchboard operator to take the call. "Jump City Police Department. How can I help you?" a voice asked on the other end.

"I need to speak to Tim Grayson as soon as possible. It's quite important," I told the woman in a rush. "This is his brother, Detective Dick Grayson calling."

The woman was silent for a minute. "One moment. I will try and locate him for you. Stay on the line, please." She hit a button and cheesy elevator music started playing through the phone into my ear. Lovely.

A few minutes later, when I was ready to reach through the phone and rip the wires out of the wall myself, Tim answered. "Sergeant Grayson speaking."

"Hey Tim, it's me. I need a favor," I said, then going and outlining the situation for him. "I need this information as quick as you can get it. It's the make or break for my case."

Tim exhaled through his nose, a whoosh of air through the mouthpiece of the phone. "How many are on the page?" he asked begrudgingly.

Grinning, I said, "Only 6 and they're all within easy walking distance of the Department. I'm faxing you the page and a picture of the bullet now. Thanks, I owe you one."

Tim laughed. "You owe me about four or more, big bro. I'll let it slide, considering it's for police business. I'll get back to you when I'm done. You're paying me overtime for this, right?"

Laughing, I said, "Don't push it. You're lucky I let you win that boxing match last week." Every weekend, we always would meet at Bruce's place for dinner and a weekend of just kicking back and relaxing.

"Oh, you let me win? I highly doubt that. We'll see this weekend, won't we?"

"Shut up and get to work or I'll come down there myself and personally run you up the flagpole." We both laughed and said goodbye before I hung up.

Okay, that's six down, about 15 to go. 5 are here in Gotham and 10 in Steel City. Wonder if I could get Clark to help me out… Nah, I just remembered he's away to visit Diana.

Sighing, I grabbed the photo evidence and the list of names before grabbing my keys from the rack. Well, there goes about another 4 hours of my life down the crapper.

Climbing into my car, I shifted into reverse and drove off to the first of many shops nearby. Stopping at the first name on the list, I walked in, looking around as I entered the small shop that smelled of metal, lubricant and beer.

A guy popped up from under the counter. His gray hair was a mess and his eyebrows were thick and bushy. He looked like your typical hermit and even sounded like it too, but at least he spoke complete English. "Can I help ya?"

Flashing my badge, I said, "I got a few questions for you Mr. Hammerstein. It'll only take a few minutes of your time."

Wiping his hands off on a rag and sticking the scrap of fabric back into his chest pocket, he sat down on a stool nearby and nodded. "I got time. What can I help the GCPD with today?"

Showing him the picture of the shell, I asked, "You build a rifle that can shoot this kind of shell?"

Staring at the picture for a minute, he said, "Nope, that's not my work. By the looks of the rounded off tip, this belongs to Archie Kings, down on Roberta Avenue."

Nodding, I set off. Just as I got to the door, I turned and said, "Thanks for the information. I'll be sure to recommend you if I need anything in the guns department." I closed the door, climbed into my car and sped off towards Roberta Ave. That section was on the far side of town and one of the roughest sections. Thank goodness I brought my pistol.

Pulling my car over a half hour drive later, I got out, locked it and walked off to the shop across the way. Opening the door, I called out, "Archie Kings?"

A voice came from the back room. "Come on in! Close the door behind ya!"

Doing as he said, I closed the door and walked into the back room. A man about 35 sat in front of an elongated rifle barrel, using a tool of some sort to round out the inside of the metal. "What can I do for ya?"

Holding out my badge, I said, "According to one Mr. A. Hammerstein, you make rifles and matching bullets. Correct?"

His eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of my badge. "I didn't do anything wrong, copper. If you're here to arrest me, what proof you got?"

"I'm not here to arrest you Mr. Kings. I only want to ask you a few questions. If you help me, I'll leave you alone and be on my way. If you resist, I can come back later with a warrant."

"Fine," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Yeah, I make rifles that fire those shells. Mostly people use them for hunting down in the woods in Steel City. The bucks up there are pretty thick skinned, so I make the shells with sharp spikes to help penetrate the hide."

Showing him the small hole in the base of the bullet, I asked, "Did you do that or was that after sale?"

He nodded. "I also put a quick poison in it that releases as soon as it hits its target. Takes only a few minutes to take effect. The poison then dissolves into the blood stream, leaving no trace of it and still makes the animal completely safe to eat."

"Do you have records of who has these custom rifles? It's quite important that I find out." I was hoping he'd cooperate and show me the records, but no dice.

"Sorry, Detective. My records are private. Nobody sees them except me." He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the door. "You can leave now."

Sighing and turning around, I left, but not before parting with a final word. "I'll be back with a warrant Mr. Kings. You can bet on it. If you resist that, you'll be in jail for up to six months for impeding a police investigation." I closed the door and got into my car and drove back to the station.

Walking into Jim's office, I said, "I need a warrant and I need it now."


End file.
